remind me that it's gonna be okay
by keep-swinging
Summary: because after something like this, i don't have any hope left. / sebtana, one-shot, high teen rating. [re-edited as of 2-11-16]


~Author's Note~

This takes place during Season 3, after the episode revolving around Regionals ( _On My Way_ ). I'm still in the middle of watching Glee so excuse anything that may seem out of place as I tried my best to follow all I could; read, enjoy and review! :)

 **Rated Teen for** suggestive themes, dark topics, trigger warnings for PTSD along with panic attacks and some language.

 **Note:** Sebastian's text messages are in **bold** while Santana's are in _italics_.

* * *

 _remind me that it's gonna be okay_

* * *

It happened after they had won Regionals.

She wasn't paying attention as she walked home that night. Whenever she looks back on it, she knows she should have been. She should have been attentive, she should have been keeping a keen eye on her surroundings. Maybe if she had none of this would've been happening to her. She had taken a shortcut down a musty alley on her way home, because she just _really_ wanted to get home and bundle herself under the warm bed covers awaiting her—it was nearly one in the morning, the full moon above her bright.

Grey clouds dotted the sky, probably meaning a light shower would be happening in the early morning hours whenever they approached, which caused her to roll her eyes at her own mindless mulling. She scanned the alleyway she was walking in, shoving her hands further into her sweatshirt's pockets in a meager attempt at trying to keep the chill in the air from numbing her fingertips.

Underneath was a red tank top and some black shorts that weren't big enough for her; hidden away by the large size of the grey sweatshirt as it hung low enough to cover up more of her legs than the shorts did (she had stolen the sweatshirt from Puck years ago and had hung onto it since—not because of the fact that it was his but hell, because it was comfy). Her eyes mindlessly stared forward, as she was too lost in thought about New Directions' win to take in the vandalism of pink and green spray-paint coating the brick walls around her.

A dog barked from somewhere far away, cats screeching as they are shooed away from a local nightclub's behind-the-scenes drug deal taking place by the smelly trashcans, ground rumbling faintly as a car's squeaky tires raced down the asphalt of the road behind her and loud laughter coming from a group of three guys hanging around the end of the alley. Her heart sped up at the sight of them, she hadn't expected to run into anybody as that was the entire point of taking the shortcut.

But she dismissed the thought of being scared quickly; she was in Lima.

Creepy people buzzed around all of the time and she had her fair sure of spitting some _very_ colorful words at drunken teenagers who happened to send whistles her way or yell obscene wishes.

This was no different; she would just ignore anything that happened to leave their filthy mouths, push her way through and continue her way home. Simple. Her stomach knotted at the overwhelming smell of alcohol that assaulted her nose as she got closer to where the men were standing and a quiet voice inside of her head screamed to her that she should turn back, turn back and just take the long way home because this idea didn't seem safe but she disregarded it and kept walking.

She exhaled softly when another round of laughter boomed from the older men (she assumed they weren't too much older than her, if only by a year or three). The smell of alcohol was sickening now, causing her cheeks to pale and stomach to roll as she went to pass them quietly but it didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped for it to be.

When she looked back on it now, she thinks her mind is suppressing what had happened to her the rest of her the night for her own safety—but she hates being in the dark about things.

All she can remember is one of the bulky men grabbing her left elbow, long fingernails pricking at her skin and fingers rough. Then the rest of the night is unclear and she _knows_ she remembers it because what happens is so freaking clear in her nightmares but then when she tries to pinpoint what exactly happened (though she already knew) any other time her brain stopped working correctly and gave her spotty visions with foggy bits of pain.

She remembers begging, remembers having to limp home—she can remember the beer-smitten breathing in her face and greasy hair brushing against her cheek.

It's disgusting, what she can remember, makes her feel abhorrent all over and if she were to count the amounts of time she had to run to the bathroom to get sick after thinking about it too much she was sure that she would be the new record holder.

Santana Lopez decides to get over herself and push it behind her two days later.

At the end of the second day she thinks about the horrid smell of beer so much she has to run to the bathroom during a Glee Club meeting. A week passes by painfully slow; with too new fears emerging in her mind and one of them being that no one was allowed to touch her.

Avoiding being touched was harder than it sounded.

Four days after that she shatters what is left of her love for Brittney and they break up.

The sting of that still hurts a week later. Santana knows that something was messed up inside of her after the incident and she can't pinpoint if it's her heart or the sanity of her mind. It makes it harder when the Glee Club knows undoubtedly that something is wrong but she is able to ease their worries by claiming that she is just 'terrified about how life after high school will be like' and 'annoyed by the freshmen strutting down the halls like they're something'.

But then Santana isn't too sure if she's pissed by the fact that they all believed her lies or happy that no one questions her further.

* * *

Two more weeks pass in slow motion.

Santana isn't herself and it doesn't take a fool to realize that but the Glee Club knows her well enough by now to understand that if she doesn't want to talk about it then she _doesn't_ want to talk about it.

She knows that she's changed too—her attitude is either more snarky than usual or not bitter enough, her eyes don't really meet the person she's talking to, the only clothes she wears are over-sized band tee shirts and sweats (and not that Puck was keeping watch or anything but she hadn't worn his sweatshirt in forever and he can't help but wonder if something had happened to it), her make-up is never truly on point according to Kurt's observations, small body seeming more frail than ever before and too extreme in going out of her way to not allow anybody to touch her in any way.

But, when do things in the world ever go according to plan?

Santana is lost in her own mind as she stands waiting in line at The Lima Bean to be able to get a steaming hot cup of creamy coffee when a face is suddenly too close to the side of her head and lips are whispering in her ear. "You're one tough girl to track down," and for a fleeting second her heart jumped into her throat and she felt her stomach instantly drop to her knees but she was able to calm herself down enough to connect the words with the voice.

Santana inhaled shakily before whipping around and seeing no other than one still-as-cocky-as-ever Sebastian Smythe standing there, arms crossed and annoying smirk already present on his features.

She scoffed, doing her best to regain her composure as quickly as possible and calm her speeding heart before crossing her arms to nearly mirror his positioning. "Nick at Night, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Santana replied dryly, even able to allow her lips to twitch into a taunting smile for all of two seconds.

He chuckled, shaking his head, "I've been good, thanks for asking." Sebastian quipped, lips splitting into a boyish grin when he saw Santana's eyes darken from aggravation.

"I didn't." She bit, moving her arms so that they covered as much as her body as they would allow and she couldn't help it because his emerald eyes seemed to be burning a hole right through her meaningless façade she had spent so much time building up using lies and by pushing people away. "So what do you want? Have a slushie with rock salt waiting for me?"

Okay in hindsight she didn't mean for those exact words to leave her mouth in such a harsh manner and she felt guilty when Sebastian flinched in front of her.

With an exhale she shook her head, meeting his eyes for a millisecond before returning her gaze to the wall stationed behind him. "Sorry, I didn't mean that," she murmured, lifting a hand up and rubbing at her temple.

Sebastian watched the woman in front of him carefully. Now he wasn't buddy-buddy with her, but he wasn't stupid either. You could tell something was wrong with Miss Lima Heights from over a mile away (though Sebastian would never admit that precise reason is why he came over and started up a conversation with her in the first place, to see what was wrong).

He shrugged, eyes not once losing their smug twinkle. "No I deserved that, it was wrong of me to do it. Apparently I need to work on my aim if I want to hit Lady Hummel next time." Santana's eyes locked with his irises in distrust but he swiftly backtracked, holding his hands up in surrender. "Not that I'm ever going to do it again. I told you, I've changed."

She wanted to laugh at the way he stumbled through his words because it was the first time she had ever heard him speak without using the conceited words he always carried around. It was a welcomed modification but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

"What do you want Andrew McCarthy?" She repeated, just wanting to get on with the conversation so it could be over as fast as possible and then she could down the largest cup of coffee money could buy. He smirked again and she _really_ wanted to smack the damned look right off his face.

"I wanted to congratulate you on your Regionals win. We were better but I can understand that the judges didn't want to hurt your feelings." Then without any warning his hand shot forward and landed gently on her shoulder, Santana's entire body freezing.

It was already bad enough that he had _mentioned_ Regionals but now he was touching her and she could feel the grimy hands, their ragged breath, and beer.

She could smell the beer.

"Santana."

Her eyes (when had she even closed them?) shot open and she saw Sebastian's face close to hers, eyes concerned. His hands were resting carefully on both of her shoulders and he had obviously pulled them out of line to give her some privacy because now they were huddled in the far corner of the store with her back facing the wall. Then she noticed how close they were, noses almost touching; his face angled downwards so that he could face her because of the even height variance between them.

Santana felt her body shaking and Sebastian slid one hand down her arm so he could grab her intertwined hands and stop them from trembling so badly. The motion helped a little but she felt like her throat was closing up, felt like she couldn't breathe. Her stomach was a rock, heart pounding and headache starting in the depths of her skull.

 _God_ , what was wrong with her?

She hadn't even noticed that he had been calling for her again, the only thing shocking Santana out of her thoughts this time was the sudden feel of his thumb running over the back of her hands.

"What in the hell was that Santana? Are you okay?" She couldn't fully understand if his tone was more irate or more worried but she felt black spots swim in her vision from the fear and took a few breaths to cool herself; focusing on the feel of the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on her hand.

Why was his hand so soft?

"I don't have all day." He snapped and Santana couldn't help but wonder if he was bipolar. But then again he was an ass all the time so that ruled it out. Santana didn't dare look up at him when she spoke, instead tunneling her eyesight on his thumb still gently caressing her hand.

"Just fine. I'm fine."

Then the feeling came over her again, the one where she felt like she was suffocating in a trapped box. Santana tore her hands from Sebastian's, looking up and nearly brushing her lips against his by accident in her rush to lift her hands up and push him backwards. "I-I gotta go," she muttered rapidly, bolting towards the door and before Sebastian had any time to put his thoughts together and shout after her she was gone and the entrance to the coffee shop was slamming shut in her place.

He stayed still, eyes stuck in a powerful glare towards the door she had exited. His hands felt like they were on fire from touching her. "What happened to you Annie? You aren't okay," he whispered softly, remembering their duet with a small smile. Something was going on with Santana and though he thought she was a compete bitch—he would be more of an ass than he already was if he didn't do something right?

With his luck, she in all probability just got knocked up or something.

It probably wasn't even a big deal but he was going to find out anyway.

* * *

Santana is busy staring at herself in her locker's mirror as Kurt talks on and on about the horrible current fashion choices of Madonna in front of her, voice muffled as she got lost in her own thoughts again. She avoids looking at mirrors now, she notices halfheartedly, as well as her reflection in any surface.

It makes it easier, she thinks.

But really it doesn't. Santana can't help but think about what had happened in The Lima Bean two days before; how she had a panic attack from being touched, how Sebastian Smythe of all people seemed honestly worried about her well-being, how all of what was happening to her was so _stupid_ and unwanted.

"I mean, don't you think it's just crazy that her fashion advisers would let her walk out in something like that?" Santana nodded after closing her locker with a hushed thump, seeing Kurt looking at her strangely from where he stood in front of her.

She gave him a pointed look, "What?"

He seemed to debate something in his head before clutching the strap of his school bag closer to himself, "Are you okay Santana? I know we've never been too close but these past few weeks it seems like something is—"

"Well, I sure hope I'm not interrupting anything." Sebastian drawled as he slandered up from behind Santana, lips twisted into a playful leer. Kurt's eyes narrowed, nose scrunching up as if he had tasted something tart.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have more pressing manners to attend to instead of harassing the Glee Club?" Sebastian laughed brashly, seemingly amused by Kurt's sudden change in attitude.

"I do actually, but I just wanted to check in with the biggest bitch of them all first." He lifted a hand and it came to rest haltingly on Santana's shoulder; the latter doing everything in her power to hide her wince at the action from Kurt's prying eyes. "Just wanted to give her my congrats about winning Regionals, her Kelly Clarkson number was the show-stopper," he retorted provokingly, eyes flickering with arrogance.

He spared a glance Santana's way because they both knew he was lying but she didn't say anything, not wanting Kurt to know about her anxiety attack. A part of her inwardly thanked whatever was above for Sebastian not saying anything about it in a swaggering manner like she thought he would. Personally, she thought he would flaunt it to the word to make her life hell.

Kurt scoffed, taking a step back. "Jealous that New Directions looked better than you up there?"

Sebastian smirked, "Believe what you want to believe Lady Hummel, just don't get too flustered thinking about me in the process." He boosted, Kurt's cheeks flushing red from anger. He opened and closed his mouth like as if he was going to say something but instead turned and made his way down the school hallway, muttering some bold profanities under his breath the entire way to the choir room.

As soon as Kurt was out of range Santana flipped around to face Sebastian, smacking his hand off her shoulder. "What are you doing here?" She hissed indignantly, Sebastian's face unexpectedly going serious.

Without saying anything he grabbed her gently by the wrist and pulled her into the nearest empty classroom; flipping on the light switch and closing the door behind them. "Don't touch me." Santana mumbled, pulling her hand away before the memories could start attacking her. Sebastian crossed his arms as he leaned back against the closed door, lips in a straight line (something Santana swears she's never seen before).

"I want answers. You had an anxiety attack the other day, a really serious one by the looks of it, and it doesn't take an idiot to know that you refuse to be touched by anyone." Santana covered her front with her arms, feeling naked under the man's omniscient stare.

He waited openly for her response and she gazed at him like a deer caught in headlights.

Sebastian was still as tall as ever, with a slimly muscled body and eyes that always glowered into her very soul. He had on his classic Dalton blazer with a tie, red and black colors merging together to form some type of indescribable attractiveness, along with some black dress pants and polished shoes. She wondered what he wore in his spare time, because Santana had only ever seen him in a blazer, if his 'normal' clothes mirrored a different person or the same asshole.

After another minute of thinking, Santana settled on a neutral reaction. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged, uninterested, "I don't. See Santana, I can read you like a book. You're a girl that doesn't want anyone else to help with your problems—you want to solve them by yourself no matter how impossible they are. I'm guessing by the way that Kurt had no idea you haven't told your precious Glee Club yet either."

"So what? It's nobody's business." She voiced, the outburst only making her feel more alone.

He watched her for a second before pushing himself off the door and taking a few steps towards her, their faces inches away from one another. "So there is something wrong," he muttered, eyes fighting to lock with hers.

"It doesn't matter." He groaned lowly, like as if he was faking a buzzer for a wrong answer.

"That's where you are wrong Santana. It does matter because of how it's changed you. The girl I know would've punched me by now and yet you seem to be way too okay with how close I am to you." She said nothing as he sighed, taking a step backwards. "I don't care about you Santana. I don't care about being an asshole to everyone I talk to. But I do care about what happened to you. I care about how you are dealing with it because it's funny to see such a total _bitch_ break down to pieces because she is too freaking stubborn to come to terms with what happened to her."

He grinned at her hastily before turning on his heel and exiting the room but not before shouting a final remark over his shoulder.

"How in the hell am I going to mess with someone who is too broken to fight back?"

As the door closed softly behind him Santana stood there motionless because her life was going haywire. This wasn't supposed to be happening; nothing should've happened to her the night of Regionals, Smythe shouldn't be _caring_ about her, she wasn't supposed to feel like she could trust him after all of the shit he had done to them—after nearly blinding Blaine—none of this was supposed to be happening.

As a bonus, on top of all of that—he was gay and she was gay—so why did she want his body close to her's?

Why did she want him to storm back in here and pull her into a hug? Why did she feel like she could trust him to tell him of that night and how the smell of tainted beer follows her around like an unpleasant reminder?

Why did she feel this way about anything?

A tear slipped down her cheek after a minute and she covered her face with her hands, exhaling heavily.

Why was this happening to her?

* * *

Another three weeks follows with no new events and Santana feels just as lost as she has been.

Sebastian had gotten her phone number from Blaine, using the excuse that he needed to ask her about an assignment she had promised to give him, the day after he had showed up in McKinley High. He was sure to text her every two days with messages that leaked sarcasm when she didn't answer him back after his very first text to her.

She finally answered him one day and they had a one-sided conversation and from then on he was sure to text her once a day.

Not once did he ask about what had happened to her, instead meaningless conversations blossomed (that, dare she say it, made her smile during math and laugh quietly during science) and Santana had a bad feeling that it wrong that she was talking to him and making jokes about his cheesy pick-up lines that apparently scored him any guy at Scandals.

Santana was growing closer to him and he was learning things about her that he never knew before (her favorite color was stripes because she could never pick just one) while she got glimpses of his sensitive side (he once dated a dude a year before that had abusive parents so to guarantee that he would have no nightmares Sebastian would let him sleepover and hold him tight in his arms; staying awake until he fell asleep first). Santana didn't know how to label what they had, she didn't know if it was a friendship or some twisted relationship.

The only thing she knew for sure was that it was there and that it was theirs.

It was now Friday and it had been way too long of a school day that even a large cup of expressio from The Lima Bean couldn't help her stay awake. Santana was basically a walking zombie as she made her way home, she had wanted to walk for the fresh air. She needed it after being trapped indoors all day. Her phone buzzed from her pocket and she fished it out, the corner of her lips jerking upwards at Sebastian's name appearing on the screen.

 **What are you up to?**

Santana typed out her reply and hit send just in time to look up and avoid crashing into an elderly couple holding hands and walking down the same sidewalk as her.

 _Walking home, you?_

She gave a nod to the elderly man when she passed, the man tipping his raggedy top hat in greeting. They hobbled by her as she looked back down at her phone.

 **At Scandals but it's slow, no cute guys here tonight.**

Rolling her eyes, she crossed the street and then felt bass from a song vibrating the ground beneath her feet. Looking up, she was met by the Scandals' neon sign staring her point blank in the face across the street. Of course Sebastian would be at that certain bar out of all of the clubs around, it was just her luck.

 _I'm across the street from there, guess your ugly ass face is scaring everyone away._

His reply was faster than all of his past text messages and she could just picture him grabbing his blazer and running towards the door so he could harass her on the walk home.

 **Wait up, I'll walk you and no, if anything my face is the only reason this place is still in business.**

Santana couldn't help but laugh out loud at the egotistical tone leaking out in waves from the man's message, leaning against the next light pole she came across which in return put her across from the entrance to Scandals.

 _I'm right across the street. Oh please Bas, your smug attitude is killing me. Tone it down a notch._

The cool metal pressed lightly into the back of her jean jacket, the light above making fuzzy sounds as it blinked from being on to being off because the light-bulb inside was dying. The colors changing nearly reflect her attitude about all of the shit that had been happening to her. Bright to dark.

 **Just let me pay off my tab and I'll be out in a minute. See, you know it's a slow night if I only had one damn beer.**

A shiver ran up her spine at the thought.

Sebastian was going to smell like beer.

Would she be able to take it?

Or would her stupid brain throw her into another pathetic panic attack?

"Babe, I thought I would never get to see you again." Santana's entire body froze at the voice that came from behind her and she felt fingers trailing down her backbone. It was one of the men that had assaulted her that night—he was the one that did most of it. The one that mostly haunted her dreams.

"G-Get off me," she voiced her mind with a shaky tone and it only caused the man behind her to chuckle and snake his arms around her waist. If she wasn't so terrified she would've turned around and socked him right in the nose.

"Aw babe, c'mon. Let's have another rou—"

"Hey!" Sebastian was running across the street, eyes lit with a fire of hate.

She gulped when the man behind her pressed a kiss to her neck, lifting a grubby hand up and running it through her hair. "Who's that babe? Your boyfriend? Does he know about us?" But before anything else could happen, Sebastian was grabbing the man by his collar and pushing him against the nearest wall.

Punch after punch landed to his face as Santana watched numbly from her sagged position at the light pole, hearing grunts and blood spatter but not truly seeing anything. Sebastian dropped the man to the ground when he fell unconscious, rushing over to Santana's side. He hesitantly touched her shoulder, the woman's frightened eyes meeting his.

"Santana?" He questioned coarsely, adrenaline racing through his veins.

Then she did something that shocked him. She vaulted herself forward into his arms and he caught her, his warm limbs wrapping tenderly around her delicate body. Santana's head burrowed into his chest, her arms moving to place themselves around his upper back as a punitive sob escaped her; one that was so heartbreaking that Sebastian nearly couldn't take it.

So held her tight for as long as she needed until she pulled away enough that they could start walking somewhere, until her cries dropped to extinguished sniffles. Then he led her to his apartment (only two blocks away) and it was a crappy place he had bought just for the hell of it, just for the fact to have somewhere to go when he needed to think.

She huddled under his hold as they walked to his apartment in numb silence, the chill air around them nipping at their insides. When they got to the apartment he had to let go of her to grab the key from under the doormat, ushering her inside once he got the door open with a heavy push (as it got stuck most the time from the different changing temperatures) and then a substantial slam once he pushed it close behind them. She takes a seat on the beaten placid couch, hugging herself as Sebastian makes a fuzz with turning up the heat so they don't get frozen out and then taking a seat next to her.

The tension around them is thick and heavy in the silence.

She breaks it first, eyes staring down at her hands. "Why did you save me?" It comes out in a defeated whisper and Sebastian finds it funny; how much he misses her spitfire energy and sassy tone. This girl is front of him is a hallowed out shell of the person he used to know but yet she still was the same person.

"Why wouldn't I?" He counters quietly, drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Because you're an asshole." Santana says it so bluntly that Sebastian nearly thinks she had flipped a switch and they were back to how they acted towards each other before Regionals.

Before . . . whatever this was, that they had. He sits there another moment, putting together the pieces that he had been gathering from the past weeks. Now it was easy to figure out what had happened to her and he deliberates not saying it out loud but does so in the end anyway because he needs to know if he's right or not.

"When did it happen?" Sebastian starts out slow, testing the waters.

Santana continues staring in front of her, "It was the night of Regionals, I was walking home and I took a shortcut down an alleyway. Three guys." Her voice catches and Sebastian glances over at her, heart breaking at how pale her features had gone—how drained she looked.

"That was one of the guys that was there, wasn't it?" The silence fills the room like a blanket smothering over everything and he really wishes there was something he could do to save Santana from the personal hell she was stuck in.

"I feel vile Bas," she muttered so softly Sebastian had to strain his ears to hear her, "disgusting. Every second of every day I feel like I'm back in that cold alleyway and I can't escape. I should've been able to push them off and s-say no. I should have been able to scream for help. I feel . . . ugly, Sebastian." She turned to face him, their faces close. "I don't think I'll ever be the same again."

He chuckled, shaking his head and his hand came up to cup her cheek. "Listen Santana, there is only one thing you need to understand. You are beautiful inside and out. And you always will be."

They looked at each other until something in Santana's mind connected the dots and then he closed the gap and his lips were moving against hers. It took her a brief second to react and his hands moved to rest gently on each of her hips, her hands finding their way into combing through his hair. They stayed locked in that bliss for a while until a thought struck Santana, one thought that could mean everything or nothing.

She removed her lips from his for merely a second, the heat between them zealous.

His eyes flickered down to her lips in desire, Santana shaking her head. "But you're gay," she murmured, his hands burning from where they rested on her hips. He laughed, mouth forming a grin as his irises looked back into hers.

"So are you."

Before she could say anything else his lips were attached to hers again and for the first time in weeks Santana felt like she was normal again.

If only for a heated moment.

* * *

It's a month later when he notices that she avoids looking into mirrors like the plague. No one besides them knew they were dating (to everyone else both were still gay instead of their recent discovery that they were both bisexual). Their relationship is a work in progress and he had gotten her to open up about why she hated being touched so much; fixing her fears with some forced hugs and vibrant kisses.

Santana doesn't freak out nearly as much as she used to when Kurt suddenly shows up next to her or Puck tries to hopelessly flirt with her or when Rachel babbles on and on in her ear about something she barely pays attention to. Sebastian decides to confront his girlfriend on her fear of reflections one day during school.

She's busy searching for a pencil to use from her locker when he walks up behind her, glancing around to see the halls nearly empty, before kissing her lightly on the neck as to not scare her. She jumps slightly but relaxes when the low rumble of his voice reaches her ears.

"Hey," Santana turns around only for him to plant a deep kiss on her lips, arms snaking around her waist. After they pull away for air, she smiles.

"What are you doing here? You got to go before somebody sees you."

He rolled his eyes, "The hallways are empty. Besides, I have something more important to take care of."

She exhaled, "This can't be good. Please don't tell me you have a slushie laying around."

He sniggered friskily, feigning hurt. "C'mon San, you know I've changed. Listen, it's actually a question for you." She pulled away from his hold, finally able to dig out a blue pencil from her locker, shutting it. "Why do you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror?"

It turns into a fight, a pathetic fight when looked back upon but a fight none the less. Sebastian just wants to help and Santana is too stubborn to just let him in.

When he breaks down one of her walls with a sledgehammer, she builds sixteen more in its place.

They don't talk for a full week.

* * *

 _Bas?_

She sends him a text as she sits curled up in a ball on her bed, tears ready to break out any moment. She doesn't want them to. Santana laughs shortly when it takes Sebastian less than a minute to respond.

 **Yeah.**

She sniffles.

 _Come over?_

His reply is instant and all she asks for.

 **I'll be there soon.**

It was a war, a war that raged inside of her full of fire and ice; a battle that could never be won.

At first she thought ignoring the issue would help. It didn't.

Then she thought befriending Smythe would help. It didn't.

Finally dating him, that it would help and hell. It did. It really did.

But Santana went and destroyed that because she didn't want to open up (really, she did want to) and he got sick of it. She understood that because she still felt vile when the nightmares would haunt her or felt like a cheater when his hands would caress parts of her bare skin and she would have to shove him away because it reminded her of that night. She didn't want to push Sebastian away, he was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time, but in the end she did.

Of course she did.

Suddenly she feels arms around her, somebody pulling her tight against their chest. Santana can't help but jeer, shoving at the warm skin encased around her. "Let go of me Sebastian."

"No."

Then she turns so that her face is facing the brawl of his clothed chest, "Let go!"

His head slants downwards to give her a hard look, one filled with care and tenacious fortitude. "I'm not letting go of you until you're okay again. Because I swear San, I will stand by you until I put every _damn_ piece of you back together."

She stops pounding her fists against his chest and her body moves as close to his as she can get, before the tears come. At first they drip down her cheeks slowly but then it's like a dam breaks open and she's causing his red tee shirt to get all wet.

A small part of her inwardly laughs at the fact that he's just a big cocky dork when he doesn't have a blazer thrown over his shoulders.

Sebastian keeps true to his promise, holding her until it all spills from her lips and she tells him every traumatizing detail.

"Do you think I'll ever get over this Bas?" She hums as her finishing statement, the man in question pressing a tender kiss to her jaw.

"I don't know. But I'll be here every step of the way."

* * *

She gets past it a year later with his help.


End file.
